


skulls and serenades

by oceanism



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, Valentine's Day, solangelo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3347219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanism/pseuds/oceanism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere in the middle of it all, Will Solace began to mean the song he was singing. Nico di Angelo was listening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	skulls and serenades

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! This isn't exactly proofread, nor did it turn out the way I wanted it to, because I crammed this like, a few hours before Valentine's Day. It's also more dialogue-heavy than what I intended/am used to. This is actually based on an actual thing they do at my school (which happened yesterday). It's called "harana," which is a Filipino word that means "serenade." Basically, the Glee Club is paid to go around singing requested songs to specific people. It's pretty cute.

The single name was an island in a sea of crossed-out letters: _Nico di Angelo_.

Will traced its edges with his eyes. Hanging on the edge of the lengthwise scrap of paper, it was the last one on the list and the final one for the whole day. Once he found the owner and sung to him the assigned song, he would achieve his quota of successfully fulfilled club obligations for Valentine’s Day. Most members of the Glee Club missed at least one or two people, but Will had never missed a name ever since his first year of high school. Breaking the streak on his senior year was definitely not in his bucket list.

“Where are you…?” he mumbled to himself, as if the addressee would magically hear.

He had been looking for Nico for the past hour, which was way longer than the time he had spent looking for the others on the list. He knew the boy from a few classes that they shared, but he rarely saw him outside the classroom setting. To be honest, he was one of the people that Will had always wanted to approach, but the blonde was too intimidated to actually do something about it. They had interacted with each other approximately four times, and all of those had been facilitated by circumstances outside their control. It was a strange thought; headstrong, friendly Will being too intimidated to approach someone. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. He had a job to do.

One of the things that made him so good at this serenade thingamajig was that he was good at figuring people out. He tried to think. Where would someone like Nico be in his free time?

But Nico di Angelo was a mystery. He didn’t know a lot about him except that he secretly listened to music during lectures and always sat in the back of the room. His grades were high enough for him to get in Will’s AP Bio class and he always turned in his History tests early. He took Greek as an elective, but he was fluent in Italian. He only wore dark colors, usually adorned with skulls, and sat with the same group of people every lunch time. He was very, very cute.

Ah. Maybe Will knew quite a bit about Nico di Angelo, who probably didn’t even know that Will existed.

Though not enough to figure this out, apparently. Will glanced at his watch. It was almost five, which was the deadline. He had a little more than forty-five minutes to find a certain dark-haired batch mate before the Valentine’s Day celebration was over.

_Lord, help me._

Will spent the next five minutes walking around with purpose in his step and intent in his eyes, (along with a little anxiety, admittedly, because this was _Nico_ )—he soon found himself nearing the school’s parking lot—but when it happened, it was by pure luck; in the form of the sound of soles scraping concrete and a flat sort of, “Ow,” if that was even possible. He found himself clutching his guitar and rushing around the corner to follow the noise.

It led him to the exact person that he was looking for, but his relief was short-lived when he saw that Nico was seated on the ground and staring at his own wounded forearm with an expression that was almost more annoyed than pained.

“You’re bleeding.” He ambled forward and kneeled beside Nico, ignoring the surprised look that surfaced with his appearance.

A few beats of silence passed before Nico’s reply came. “I tripped. It’s just a scratch,” he said in a tone that was almost defensive.

Will raised an eyebrow. “You call that a _scratch?_ ”

Nico scowled and looked away, cradling his forearm almost self-consciously. There were, Will noticed, a lot of things about him that could be described with the word _almost_. It was oddly endearing, which was a word that he really shouldn’t be using in reference to Nico. “What would _you_ know?”

“I’ve been taking First Aid classes for years, including the ones offered at this school. But I’m not surprised that you don’t know that.” Will grinned. “I’m not exactly someone you pay attention to.” Nico frowned, but before he could make a comment, Will changed the topic. “That’s not serious; just a flesh wound, but it should be treated as soon as possible.”

“And how is that going to happen?” Nico asked drily. “I don’t exactly carry a first aid kit with me.”

“I do.”

 _“…Seriously?”_ The look on his face was something in between disbelief and amusement, the latter of which was almost invisible if you weren’t looking closely enough to spot the slight quirk of his lips and the subtle movement of his eyes. But Will _was_.

Oddly, he found himself relishing in the reaction. Carefully, he placed his guitar on the ground beside both of their legs and rummaged through his backpack. His fingers found the miniature box with a Red Cross motif. He took it out and waved it triumphantly. “First Aid classes, remember? Don’t laugh—it’s a healthy habit, and you should be grateful.”

Nico eyed the first aid kit. “Who said I was laughing? And you don’t have to do this. I’ve experienced worse.”

Will rolled his eyes. “None of that, now,” he said. Then something like surprise flickered in Nico’s eyes. He figured that the other just wasn’t used to people being firm with him or something. Luckily, Will was pretty obstinate. In fact, he was the most stubborn person that he knew. “May I?” He pointed at Nico’s forearm.

It took so long for Nico to reply that Will was on the verge of volunteering clarification in case he hadn’t understood the first time, but finally, the boy nodded and extended his arm. The mumbled, “Fine,” was so quiet that Will almost missed it.

He took the offered limb and proceeded to take care of the wound with deft but gentle movements that he had gone through at least a hundred times before. Nico, he noted, didn’t even flinch at the sting of antiseptic, but his arm tensed almost imperceptibly. Soon enough, the wound was neatly cleaned and bandaged.

Nico took the proffered arm back. The movement was almost shy. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Will smiled, and Nico looked away. He followed the latter’s gaze. It was on the guitar, and the sight of the instrument reminded Will of what had been his purpose in the first place. “Right, uh, this is going to sound weird, but don’t stand up yet.”

Nico frowned. Will could understand. The parking lot was currently devoid of human beings, but if anyone arrived, they would look, plainly, strange. In fact, the whole situation was strange enough without the presence of a spectator. “Why?”

Will picked up the guitar and rested it on his legs. His blood thrummed with what he recognized—with more than a little incredulity—was nervousness. Doing things like this was second nature, and he rarely felt nervous anymore. It was weird to suddenly feel so self-conscious about performing in front of an audience, especially if said audience consisted of a single individual.

He had performed in front of crowds, for God’s sake, but he couldn’t remember being as nervous then as he was now.

“Uh. You know about Secondhand Serenade, right? Not like, the band, but the fundraiser that the Glee Club holds every time there’s an event…” He trailed off, watching Nico’s expression.

Said expression went through a series of changes—confusion to realization to horror—before Nico released a groan. “Goddammit.”

“Well, yeah… I was looking for you, actually. Standard protocol is to start singing as I approach, but,” Will grinned, “you were injured.”

There was the faintest dusting of pink on Nico’s cheeks and his lips were pressed into what looked very much like a pout.  Cute.

(Oh, God.This guy. He was making Will throw all his professionalism out the figurative window.)

“Okay. You _really_ don’t have to do this.” Annoyance was etched on every line and curve of his features, almost cancelling out the adorable expression that he sported, but not quite. Will got the distinct impression that his companion knew exactly who had sent him a song and was not happy about it. This made him feel ridiculously pleased, for some unfathomable, probably unprofessional reason.

He shook his head. “Nah, man. I can’t break my streak. You’re the last one of the day.”

“Just tell them that you sung to me. I’ll testify if I have to.” Nico was mumbling again, avoiding Will’s eyes and looking very much like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

He had to resist the urge to nudge the other boy, or to flick his forehead, or do something that would probably count as overstepping his boundaries. “That would be a spot on my pure conscience.” Nico let out a snort. Will felt a surge of encouragement. “I don’t do stuff like that. C’mon, it will take less than five minutes of your time.”

“It’s not that—” Nico cut himself off midsentence and immediately pursed his lips. He was still looking away, but the blush on his cheeks was definitely darker now. Will found himself wondering what he had been going to say, but then he spoke again, and it was a resigned, muttered, “Fine,” that sent Will’s heart rate spiking and his grin out of control.

Once again, he was thankful that he was a really stubborn person.

Trying to steady his shaking fingers—why in the world was he so nervous?—Will cleared his throat. He glanced at Nico, who was studiously staring at his shoes, and began to sing.

The song was a popular request and he had sung it multiple times on that day alone, but now the words felt different on his lips and the guitar strings felt different underneath his fingers; maybe everything was different with someone like Nico di Angelo, or maybe everything was different because for the first time in a long time, the song was affecting him. Or maybe it was the person he was singing it to that was affecting him. He didn’t know anymore, and his thoughts were too jumbled and scattered for him to make any sense.

Perhaps the best way to explain it was that with other people and other songs, he was nothing but a medium—a radio, or a microphone, or an instrument; the message did not come from him, but from the person who requested him to deliver it. But with Nico, the song resonated from more than a request form labeled ‘Secondhand Serenade,’ and Will found the line between sender and messenger blurring.

Will was pretty damn confused, and Nico didn’t even know it.

Nico was looking at him again. “…Wow. Uh, you’re actually really good. A lot of people have probably said that already, huh?”

It _was_ a compliment paid often, but Will still appreciated each and every one. Nico sounded like he thought his opinion didn’t matter, which was probably one of the falsest things ever, and he wanted nothing more than to take the other boy by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, because one, feeling like one’s opinion didn’t matter wasn’t something that anyone should feel, and two, Nico’s opinion mattered to Will.

But he couldn’t do that. It would be weird, and for all he knew, the other boy probably didn’t even know his name. “Thanks. I’m Will Solace, by the way.”

“I know.”

“You do?” His heart _might_ have skipped a beat.

Nico hesitated, before saying, “We have AP Bio together.”

Oh, hell yeah. Nico di Angelo knew him. That was a good start.

“Yeah, we do. Say, Nico, tell—” Will’s phone buzzed, signaling that there were only five minutes left until the event officially ended. He’d lost track of time. “Fudge!”

“Fudge?” Nico echoed with a distinctly amused tone and a smirk. The expression was surprisingly fitting on his features.

This time, it was Will’s ears that flushed pink. Oh God, no. _Why?_ “I’m anti-swearing, okay.”

Nico tilted his head. “Cute.”

“Yeah, and I have to—Wait, what?” His eyes widened. Warmth crept up his neck and color flooded his cheeks. Nico released a soft chuckle, which made Will cross his arms in indignation. “Hey! You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just— _fudge_.” Nico laughed again, and despite himself, Will felt his lips curve into a smile.

He rose, offering his hand to Nico without a second thought. “I’d debate with you about the long-term benefits of avoiding swear words, but I have to go now.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry for taking up your time and stuff, but you were the one who insisted on singing.” There was a pause of hesitation before Nico reached up and used the hand to support himself, and proceeded to let go of it as quickly as possible. Will enjoyed it while it lasted. Nico was avoiding his eyes again, and instead was focusing his gaze on the floor.

“Don’t apologize. And I told you, doing otherwise would be against my principles.” Will smiled, walking backwards. Three minutes before the deadline. He didn’t want to go. “See you in class.”

“Okay.”

“Happy Valentine’s, Nico!”

“…Happy Valentine’s, Solace.”

The next day, Will sat next to Nico. They had a long discussion about Mythomagic, the point of Valentine’s Day, Will’s annoying habit of singing love songs under his breath, and the proper usage of swear words. It was, Will decided, something that he wouldn’t mind doing every day.

_I think I have a crush._

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, this was going to be longer and there were going to be like, multiple instances (scattered in between one Valentine's Day and the next and one each for each Valentine's Day, so it's like, spanning a year) in which Will would sing something to Nico and with each song, he would realize that he actually meant it. (Did that make sense?) But then I ran out of time because, as stated in the note above, I crammed this. I can't write ten thousand words in three hours. :( I have like, the first half of the second part written, though. It's in Nico's POV and it explains a few things, like who sent him the song and how he also knew more than he let on about Will. I _might_ post it on my tumblr, but most like only there and not here, so [here](http://yufuen.tumblr.com) is my tumblr, just in case.
> 
> Also!!! **What song do you imagine that Will sung?** I didn't type it because I wanted to keep it open, and because I myself couldn't decide. Please leave your answer in the comments; I want to know, and I also want to lengthen my Solangelo playlist. B)


End file.
